The Waiting Walk

February 14^th.  It was a Sunday and I was in the middle of preparing supper.  I heard the doorbell ring and immediately went to answer – I was expecting this interruption.  They say a teacher’s job is never done, and it seems the principal’s job isn’t either.  I had an order out for uniform logos to be embroidered on our shirts.  Pat was so good at embroidering logos and had been doing it for our school for several years.  Her husband, Richard, had called earlier that day saying they were ready, and even offered to drop them off at my house!  Of course I accepted this generous offer.  It wasn’t the first time they had made a delivery and saved me an hour or so of driving by not having to go to their home business. They were such a sweet couple, and I always enjoyed the quick visits I had with them on drop-off or pick-ups.

That evening as I cooked supper and waited for him to arrive, I began thinking about Pat and wondered how she was doing.  She was an elderly woman who had been battling some health issues.  Initially she hadn’t known what she was struggling with, but then the dreaded diagnoses of cancer reared its ugly head. However, despite the struggles, she had continued to do embroidery work, although at a slower pace. Last I had heard, she was feeling fine and the treatments had significantly helped.  I wondered if Pat would be with her husband when he dropped off the items that night, or if he would come alone.

When the doorbell rang, I went to the door to find Richard standing there alone, a bag and gift box in one hand, a squirmy little dog in the other.  He handed me the bag but I wasn’t sure what to do with the box.  Certainly a gift wouldn’t be intended for me, their customer.  I took the bag and asked about the box which was now being extended to me. 

“What is the box?  Am I supposed to take that too?” I asked, unsure.

“Well, we will see…” was his awkward answer.  “Have you ever heard of Este Lauder Youth Dew perfume?” 

I had to ask him to repeat himself; his words seemed awkward, forced.  He repeated and then instructed me to open the box and check it out for myself.  It all seemed so strange. What does perfume have to do with embroidering logos on uniforms?

As the lid came off, I pried the bottle out of its place and held it to my nose.  It was obviously an expensive gift – at least as far as my perfume budget goes.  Still not sure what the catch was, or if he was trying to sell me something, I tried to portray delight in the scent without seeming overly excited.  “What is this for?” I questioned.

He stood still for a second, looked around, then shuffled to the side.  I had noticed this shuffle once before as well.  Something was up.  His mouth twitched.  He strained his neck slightly before speaking.

“I lost Pat on Wednesday,” he whispered. It was all he could say as his voice choked with emotion.

“I am so, so sorry,” I started, but he began speaking again before I could say more.

“This was going to be her Valentine’s gift.” 

The weight; the honor of what this meant, of everything that had transpired over the last five minutes, over the last few months and years, all came together suddenly in my mind. I was overwhelmed.  I offered him a gentle hug.

“I am so sorry. That’s so hard…”  There are no words at times like these, so I simply waited, encouraging him to share more. 

Yes, it was the cancer.  She had been on hospice for only five days, and now she was gone.  He would continue the business, at least for now, so we should still contact him in the future.  She had passed away on Wednesday, Friday he had finished the shirts, and today, the day that the world celebrates love, he and the little dog just needed to get out of the house.  So here they were, delivering shirts, and also this precious Valentine’s gift that could now never be given to his wife.

I thanked him again, promising to treasure this precious gift.  He turned and walked away. It has been several years since this day, and I treasure this gift even more now than I did that day.

I was nearly in tears as I came inside. “What did I do to deserve the honor of receiving this extravagant gift intended for his beloved?” I wondered.  “Why me?” 

There really is no answer to that question.  Sure, I’d been positive in my limited relationship with his wife. I’d taken an interest in her health and family, as much as a five-minute visit 2-3 times a year can allow for.  I’d thanked them ever so sincerely for their quality work.  But what was any of that in comparison to a gift intended for the love of his life?  It was nothing – nothing at all worthy of receiving Pat’s Valentine.

I will always treasure this wholly undeserved gift. But Pat’s Valentine isn’t the only extravagant gift I’ve been offered.  Someday I will hear a trumpet instead of a doorbell. Just imagine with me. It’s a sound I am waiting for expectantly. And there standing in the clouds is Jesus!  He’s reaching out, extending a gift towards me – the gift of eternal life, of a home in paradise, and of spending forever with Him.  The honor is overwhelming! “I don’t deserve this! What have I done to warrant such a costly gift—something so special, so glorious, so extravagant? Surely these can’t be meant for me!”

And just like my interaction with Richard from the embroidery shop, I will once again recognize that I’ve done nothing to deserve this. Nothing that is, except seek to have a relationship with God’s beloved Son.  But it is enough.  Because of that relationship, a gift is being offered to me, to you, to everyone who enters that relationship.  A gift even more wonderful, precious, and extravagant than Pat’s Valentine. 

He is offering this gift to you as well. Would you like to accept?

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*I have shared this story before on different platforms, but every few years I like to get it out and brush it up. I tell my students an author’s work is never done. Even after it’s published, it can still be made better. I was never satisfied with the ending. I think this one is getting close… I hope you were blessed even if you’ve heard it before. Happy Valentine’s Day! May you know that you are truly, deeply, and fully loved – even though you’ve done nothing to deserve it.